


Pet

by SHARKMARTINI



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Play, Consensual use of vampire thrall, Established Relationship, Feelings, M/M, Self-Loathing, Sex, no wings or tail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 22:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20433845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/pseuds/SHARKMARTINI
Summary: Most vampires can agree that humans are good for two things. Baz is disgusted. Simon is intrigued.





	Pet

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone is doing it now and I didn’t want to be left out.
> 
> Also I want to take a hot sec to gush about the darling [krisrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix), who beta’d this and basically wrote the ending because he’s a genius and unfairly talented and also incredibly kind and patient. Basically, he’s just very lovely and brilliant and you should check out his art and fics which are phenomenal.
> 
> Finally, I’d apologize but in all honesty we know Simon is a monsterfucker- let the boy get what he wants. Give him peace.

**SIMON**

We don't exactly run in the same circles, but sometimes it's handy to get information right from the source. I don't dare ask Baz to sniff him out, so he's hard to find- but I don't mind being patient. There's no real rush.

When we finally meet, I bring up the list of things I keep on my phone. This time I'm especially interested in knowing how magnesium affects them. Baz has been eating a lot of avocados recently, and he's been drinking more (blood, that is). I've been rotating through our cycle of butchers quicker and quicker, and I want to know if it's related.

We're in a vampire bar, a dingier one than when I went looking for him with Baz, although this one was easier for me to get into. The doorman had barely even looked twice at me before waving me through so I could meet with Nicodemus.

The staring is becoming a problem though. I'm used to stares (former Chosen One and all that) but these are especially- predatory. And worse than ever it would seem. I've been around enough vampires to know they're not usually interested in humans (or at least, they're polite enough not to flaunt it), but these ones are.

And, well- they seem kind of _feral_.

"Ignore them," Nicodemus says into his pint, "they're trying to figure out if we're bonded or whether you're up for grabs."

"Bonded?" I ask (stupidly).

"Together- part of a pair. This place is kind of old fashioned- a lot of these guys are really old and used to keeping human… companions."

_Companions_.

It's an innocuous word, but the way his lip curls kind of lets me know that's not exactly what he means. I frown.

"It's not in fashion among the younger ones, but once upon a time it was a status symbol of sort. Reckon your vamp is too progressive for that kind of thing though. He probably doesn't have the stomach for it, having grown up among you lot."

"So did you," I point out. He shrugs.

"Being human was never enough for me, didn't really care for it. Now your vamp, he wants it so desperately I can practically smell it on him. And he obviously treats you well," he nods at my neck (unblemished, thanks to Baz's misplaced paranoia).

I feel myself flush.

A couple of the vampires sitting at the bar start to fidget. Nicodemus waves them off without even looking back at them.

"Don’t worry about them," he tells me when he notices my nervousness. "It's all right. You wouldn't just pet someone's dog without asking first. They won’t do anything as long as I’m sitting here with you."

“You’d better be willing to walk me out then,” I tell him seriously.

“What- the Chosen One can’t take a couple of vampires?”

I bristle a little. I still hate being called that. We sit in silence while he finishes his drink. There are a couple more stares as we get up to leave, but true to his word nothing else happens.

“Oh, come off it,” he complains, finally annoyed. “Don’t look at him like that. This one is right dangerous, he’s no pet.”

Then we’re back out in the streets, pulling our coat collars up against the wind.

“I’ll see you around. Don’t worry about the avocado toast- all it’s gonna do is rack up your grocer’s bill, but it’s harmless enough.”

And then he’s gone.

**\-----**

I'm still thinking about it a week later.

And another week after that.

I shouldn't be. Who knows what Baz would think. (Actually, I already know. He's not going to like it. Just like he dislikes everything to do with what he is.)

I decide to indulge myself and imagine explaining it to him. It’s harmless just to think about it. Then I go a step further and actually start writing down what I would say. Then I memorize it.

When I start trying to figure out the best time and place to bring it up, I finally admit to myself that I want to make this happen. That I’m serious.

Baz is going to be so fucking cross.

It's been a good day. We're both home from work on time, there's leftover takeaway in the fridge, and we're curled up in front of the telly. It's exactly the kind of night that I'd always hoped I would live to have. Something sweet and domestic.

It's kind of unfair. I know this won't work unless I bring it up on a day like today, but there's a pretty big chance I lose the odds and fuck up our entire evening instead.

Fuck it, I've got to try.

"Did you know," I swallow. "Did you know that some vampires keep humans… kind of like pets?"

My voice shakes a little.

"Why would I know that?" he snaps.

Right, I knew this would be a mistake. I immediately forget everything I want to say. Shit.

"I only meant," I swallow again, and I watch him watch the movement. I stick my chin out, refusing to back down. "Just…” It's impossible to say what I mean when he's like this. I'm pretty sure he's being dense on purpose. "Like… to feed off of. And shag," I continue, and he stares.

This shouldn't be a big deal. We've done both of those things, although admittedly not at the same time. ("Food is separate from sex!" he'd snapped at me once, when I'd asked years ago if he could bite me in bed. As of now it's our go to only on very special occasions.)

(The key to the whole thing was finding a loophole. He won't bite me, fine, but sometimes I'll worry my lip until it bleeds and let him lick it up.)

His face twists in a way I don't recognize. It doesn't look good.

I guess that's a no.

I turn back to the telly and rub his stomach until he starts to settle down. I'm lucky that I've managed to salvage the evening, even if I didn't get the reaction I'd hoped for.

I doubt the idea will leave me alone just like that. I've been waiting to bring it up because- well because he can be a right wanker when he's in a strop. He's even worse when he knows he's only being stubborn for the sake of it.

I want it.

He _knows _I want it.

And I'm pretty sure he wants it too.

**BAZ**

He's an idiot. An absolute imbecile.

_Did you know some vampires keep humans… kind of like pets?_

I sure didn't, Simon. While we're on the topic, did you know most humans (the sane ones) stake vampires probably to avoid that very kind of thing?

Yes, I'm weak. And when he offers, when he's already bleeding, sometimes I- take advantage. (I know he'd have a problem with the semantics, but that's what it is really- _taking advantage._)

But somehow it feels different like that.

And there are some things he wants to give that I just don't trust myself to take.

\-----

**SIMON**

It's simply a coincidence that we've been too busy for sex recently, but I couldn't have planned it better. I wait until we've undressed and I'm kneeling in front of him to take my shot.

“I want us to try something. Please,” I ask him, pulling my mouth off his cock and kissing his hipbone.

“Simon,” he says, and I take him back in my mouth, flicking my tongue against his slit before dragging the tip through it.

He reacts exactly the way I want, hissing and sliding his hands into my hair as I pull back.

“I want you out of your mind with it,” I tell him honestly, “I want you to do everything to me- the stuff I know you want. The stuff you don't want to talk about.”

“That’s- that’s dangerous. Don’t make me turn you down again, love.”

He frowns as I pull away completely. “Tell me no then. Tell me you don’t want it, and I won’t ask again.” It's true. I don't want to do anything he doesn't want. But he just stands and stares, breathing heavily. I push down the urge to smirk- I know he wants it, that's not what this is about.

Now I've just got to convince him to give it a go.

I draw closer again, kissing my way up his shaft. “I want it so bad,” I confess. “I want you to use me. I want every part of me to belong to you.”

"You already do."

I close my eyes as he runs his hand through my curls. I make a satisfied little noise that's as much about working him up as it is an honest reaction.

(I love having my hair played with. But I love drawing Baz closer and closer to temptation more.)

It’s probably unfair, bringing it up right when he’s gearing up for a shag- but Baz always plays dirty, all I can do this way is hope to catch up.

**BAZ**

He has no idea what he’s asking for. He thinks he does, but Snow is congenitally stupid and wholly naïve.

He’s been thinking about it though. About how to convince me. He’s saying such pretty things- and without his usual stops and starts. He must have practiced this conversation in anticipation. It’s no coincidence that he’s chosen our anniversary to broach the topic either.

And he accuses me of plotting. Snow has put more effort into plotting this little show than I’ve ever put into anything he's ever accused me of doing.

Even now he’s looking up at me through his lashes as he licks the tip of my cock cheekily.

It’s hard to turn him down when he’s on his knees asking for it and looking so pretty while he does it.

I know he knows this, and I know he's counting on it.

But his mouth feels so good around me.

"How would you want it?" I ask before I can stop myself.

It's a mistake to ask, in more ways than one. I hiss as his mouth abandons my cock completely and he kisses my thigh in sympathy.

"I want it however you want to give it to me.” He says hoarsely.

We stare at each other as I breathe heavily.

He wants it.

I want it. I’ve always wanted it.

Maybe this is something I could let myself have after all.

\----- 

We set a date on the calendar, because it makes me feel more in control if I have a visual cue so I can give myself time to prepare.

He doesn’t complain in the days leading up to the date (circled _and _underlined in red, courtesy of Snow) when I send him out to two separate butchers to buy them out of blood. Then to the shops for new sheets. And finally to the chemists for prophylactic iron supplements.

He does actually complain when they stain his teeth pink, but he decides to complain to me as I’m downing a pint of blood, so he gets no sympathy.

(What he does get is a bloody grimace that shuts him right up. Then he goes back and switches the liquid supplement to pills and solves his own problem. He still makes a face when he takes them- he hates taking anything even vaguely medicinal- but he knows this whole production would be a no-go without proper protection.)

Finally, the day arrives.

I avoid eye contact most of the day as I go over my list of ways this could go wrong. He spends the whole day beaming and glancing eagerly at the clock. His enthusiasm is encouraging, but it also makes me nervous.

“I’m going to go up and get ready. Come join me when you’re done?”

I nod at him from the kitchen island, where I’ve been steadily drinking for the last fifteen minutes. My hands have been shaking since the sun went down- so instead of preparing it the way I normally would, I’m drinking the blood straight from the butcher’s carton with a silly straw one of Bunce’s wildlings must have left behind.

He grins. He’s entirely too relaxed and nonchalant about what is about to happen to him. “Don’t spoil your appetite.”

And then he’s gone.

When I’m done, I sigh and let my head drop to the counter. I try to count my breaths, and eventually they even out.

I need to get a grip.

It's not like we haven't done at least some of this. Snow had begged me for _years. _Finally tasting him, well it was much more about him than it was for me.

Not that I didn't like it.

No, like I've always suspected, the problem was that I like it too much.

Even now, well fed and fully in charge of my mental faculties, something stirs guiltily in my brain, down my spine and twisting around my gut as I think about his blood.

When I finally make my way up to our room, he's sitting on the bed completely starkers, looking at me expectantly. He looks delicious. He's already worked himself up, and I can sense the thrum of blood through his arteries- pooling in his veins. Honestly, it's probably a mistake not to keep these two things separate- food and sex.

He's just so _alive_.

I know what he's willing to give, but I don't know that I trust myself to take that and only that.

I twirl my wand absent-mindedly. I don't trust myself at all. "**This is a safe space**," I cast, gesturing vaguely around the room. "The word is anathema," I tell him, eyeing him while I unbutton my shirt. He frowns. "If you need…" I can barely get the words out, "if you need me to stop," I clarify.

His expression melts away and is replaced with something that makes it difficult for me to look him in the eye.

"Baz," he chides me, "I love you. I trust you."

He shouldn't.

I strip down to my pants and join him on the bed.

"Take these off," he says, pulling me closer.

"I thought I was the one calling the shots?" He flushes a little when I say it, and I take a moment to admire the rise of blood in him. He looks way too excited for where we are, wading through the very beginning of it all. I swallow heavily and push down my steadily mounting panic. "Come sit on me," I tell him.

He makes a show of settling himself on my lap, rubbing purposefully against me through my pants. I hold his hips roughly and rut against his arse a couple of times, revelling in the catch of his breath.

"Baz," he moans as I start licking up the side of his neck.

"Hush," I tell him, more so I can concentrate than anything else. The way he presses against me harder than ever lets me know he doesn't mind. I try to let myself get lost in it, the long swaths of tongue against warm skin, feeling the steady pulse of his blood in his arteries. Then comes the tell-tale tingle in my gums, and I cautiously continue my search as my fangs descend.

I feel him reach down between us, and I nudge him until he moves his hands behind him to the small of his back, and I hold him there by the wrists. I use my free hand to urge him closer, deeper in my lap as he pants into the humid air between us.

I take my time choosing a spot. The delicate area between his jaw and his neck is a personal favourite, but I imagine the pain would be more intense there.

He writhes in my lap, desperate for friction as I tongue the soft skin at the base of his neck, testing the junction at his shoulder. The skin is thicker here, but no less delicious. The sound he makes when I let my fangs drag there (softly) makes the decision for me.

"Hurry up. Just take it, take it. I want you to."

"Darling, I never complain about your eating habits," I chide as I flick my tongue out to test the tautness of the skin. He struggles a little against my hold, testing it. I moan against his neck, feeling his pulse under my tongue. His blood is right there, sliding through him. All of it could be mine.

All I need to do is take it.

I take a deep breath, and try to think about him- Simon. My partner. The person I love.

But all my primitive brain can focus on is feeding from my prey.

He tenses as I slowly sink my fangs into him, struggling against me in earnest. I rub my thumb against his trapped arms soothingly, but I don't release my grip.

I ignore the overwhelming desire to suck all that I can from him and instead work on getting my fangs deeper, wincing at the thought of causing him pain. But the faster the venom gets into him the sooner it will start to feel good.

When he goes boneless in my lap, I'm ready for it, supporting him and holding him against my chest. I wait until he sighs faintly to start drinking from him.

It's so good.

He always tastes better than I remember, every time. I'm loud, moaning against his neck as I suck everything I can from the wound- digging my fangs in deeper, trying to get more. I'm so _thirsty._ And he tastes- he tastes the way home feels. Like the deepest most sacred desire of my heart. I lose myself in the warmth of his blood, the rich taste. There's so much- I can sense it all pulsing through him, keeping him nice and warm for me.

It's all for me.

He wants me to have it- and I want to take it. Everything I can get. More, even.

He's a dead weight against me, but I don't mind supporting us both. All I can focus on is the taste of him, and the vague stream of thoughts about what a waste all the time I haven't spent fangs deep in him has been. This is what I need from him, what he wants. What he's good for.

I pull him deeper into my lap, rubbing against him while I feed. It's incredible- all of a sudden I can't remember for the life of me why we haven't done this before. This is the way it should be. I only wish I'd thought to take my pants off, so I could be inside him in every way possible.

We should spend all our time doing this.

There's a tapping sensation on my chest. I ignore it, and push my fangs in deeper.

(I need to be deeper, that's the only way to get what I want, what I need. I want to be as far inside him as I can get, I want to drink everything he's got to offer. I need it- I need _him.)_

"Baz." His voice is a hoarse, weak thing. I stop, for a just a moment, but it's enough. Simon has his hand on my chest, pushing me back.

The sound my fangs make as I wrench them out of his shoulder makes me shudder, and I lean back in to sloppily run my tongue against the puncture wounds, helpless against my greed.

It's not until he physically pulls my head away from his shoulder that I stop, panting. My nerves are shot, my control a frayed and tenuous thing.

"Satisfied?" he asks, looking at me sleepily, eyelids heavy.

Aleister _fucking _Crowley, not even close.

A drop of blood wells up and slides down into the dip of his collarbone- and I lose it completely.

"Not yet. You're still good for something else," I growl at him, right before I shove him off my lap and flip him over. He's a deadweight, slack and heavily sedated by the venom.

I hover over him, fighting with myself until I hear him so so softly-

"Please, please, please."

It should take more than that for me to continue, but it doesn't.

He shivers as I run my hands over the muscles of his back. He whines as I knead his arse, holding him open and leaning down to run my tongue as slow as I can from the base of his spine down to his bollocks. How is it that every part of him is divine? I lick him long and slow and when he's nice and wet I point my tongue and slide it into him, savouring the smooth yield of the muscle.

It doesn’t take him long until he's sobbing, begging incoherently into the sheets.

"Enough, darling," I tell him as I finally take pity on him and remove my pants. It's quick work to slick myself up, but it feels like too long to be away from him anyway. "Tell me what you want, love."

"Baz. Please, Baz. Fuck me, use me."

I lean over him, settling on my elbow and taking his chin in my hand. I feel him spreading his legs for me, muscles weak and shivering with the effects of the venom. I tilt his head so I can run my tongue under his jaw as I press myself into him. "You beg so prettily," I whisper against his skin as I seat myself as deep as I can.

I lean back and let my head drop to the place between his shoulder blades as I let him get used to the feeling. I always forget just how good he feels. The moment I feel him weakly pressing back into me, I pin him down into the mattress, leveraging my weight to hold him still as I start to move inside him.

He whines and tugs at the sheets as I fuck him, but I keep my hand pinned to the small of his back. If the imbecile asks to be used, then he's getting fucked as hard and deep as I want- and nothing less.

It's just as indulgent as I'd hoped. He's wrecked, overstimulated and muscles slack as I give it to him over and over.

It's not long before I succumb to desire and let myself press down across his back, head tilted to tongue at his wound.

"Baz," he moans. Feeling the rumble of my name in his throat causes a visceral thrill to run through me. He's mine. He's mine and he knows it. Every part of him belongs to me.

I'm disgusting.

He moans in earnest as I push my tongue into one of the puncture wounds, every part of myself desperate to get inside him. His blood is thick here, not quite coagulated but no longer flowing freely. I suck on the wound, taking everything it will give- and when it's done bleeding for me I move on to the other one. My fingers press into the soft skin of his waist greedily, holding him where I want him as I take my pleasure from his body, from his blood.

I'm panting as I lick the last of his blood from my lips, and all of a sudden I need to see his face. I'm going to lose myself completely if I don't.

He protests as I pull out, trying in vain to keep us together as I flip him over. The second I have him on his back he spreads his legs, looking absolutely debauched. I salivate at the sight, climbing back on top of him and sliding back in with a long smooth thrust that wrings out my gut.

He's so distracting, I nearly forget why I needed him like this. He whines as I pull back and tilt his face up. I don't deserve the look on his face. (I don't deserve anything he's given me.)

"Simon," I kiss the hollows of his cheeks, the sweep of his brow as I try to hold onto him through the fervid sweep of our desire. It's not long until we're sweaty and breathless, clinging to each other with increasing desperation.

"Darling, I want you to come."

He shakes his head manically. "Not yet."

"I want you to feel good." I kiss the hollow of his throat and his breath hitches as I fuck into him harder.

"S'already good. So good." He's slurring, drooling a little. That won’t do.

"Mhm," I agree, licking the trail of spit from the corner of his mouth. "You've been so good for me."

"Yeah," he agrees, "always wanna be good for you."

"You are. You're such a good pet."

The volume of his moan startles me. So does the violent clench of my gut- disgust runs through with absolute shivering pleasure. My desire is a living thing, barely under my control as I fuck into him over and over.

“Make me come,” he finally demands, and I spit on my free hand, wrapping it around him. “No,” he pants, writhing out of my grasp, “_make_ me do it.”

I hesitate. We've never done this before. I've used it, under the most dire of circumstances- but never on Snow. I'd promised myself that I never would. I'd rather die than make him do something (anything) he didn't want to do. I'd have died by his hands rather than use it to save my own life.

Which is why I'm a little apprehensive. But he’s asking for it, mouth wide open as he watches me, flushed from his chest all the way up to the tips of his ears.

He’s the actualization of my deepest, most shameful desires- the ones I try never to think about. The ones I could never admit to myself except for late at night, alone in the shower. Only now I don't have to be alone- he's underneath me, my cock deep in his arse and his blood warm inside me. I don't need to hide it from him ever again.

I find his gaze and hold it.

I use the smallest amount of power possible, barely a trickle.

"_Come for me, darling._"

He tightens around me, body tensing before I'm even done ordering him. He throws his head back, exposing the long line of his neck and I lick up it greedily, tasting the sweat and salt of his skin. The pulsating clench of his body is divine, and I have no choice but to surrender to it. I fuck into him until I feel myself losing control, shivering and growling as I push as deep into him as I can and give in.

We lie there in silence, panting into each other's skin, breaths wet and huffing as we come back to ourselves.

It’s not until I feel his hands cupping my face and lifting it from his chest that I realize I’m crying. He kisses my face tenderly, licking away my tears.

It was so good- but now I feel disgusting. I’m a disaster. I don’t know how he manages to be so good and giving- even after I’ve used him up and wrung him out. After I’ve fed off of him and used him to get off. But he kisses me the same as he’s always done- like I’m worth something. Like he’s grateful for me.

(He shouldn’t be.)

“I love you,” he says softly against the side of my mouth, “all of you.”

“It’s not who I am,” I lie, fresh tears falling, “that’s not me.”

I shouldn’t have given in. There’s no way he doesn’t know how much I liked it. How good it was. How desperately I want to hold him down and do it all over again.

Take everything he has to give and more.

I let him kiss me because I’m weak. If I were stronger I’d walk away and give him up so I could never hurt him.

“I love every part of you, even the stuff you’re ashamed of. Nothing about you is ugly to me. I want it all.” He pushes my hair out of my face and holds me close. I can feel his heart beat against mine.

It only makes me cry harder, knowing he’s thought about it- probably rehearsed it so he could say it now without stammering.

I wonder how long he’s thought about this.

It’s fucked up but I let him hold me. I try to let myself take comfort from him, because I know he’d want me to.

All I do is take.

“Thank you,” he tells me much later, after the barest hints of pink are threaded through the sky.

“Don’t be a numpty,” I tell him. I may not be crying anymore but I still feel raw under my skin, all my edges rough and chafing.

“No, honestly. Thank you for giving me this. Thank you for trusting me.” He stops and thinks. “Thank you for, y'know. For being you.”

“It was just a shag.” I snap at him.

"A spectacular shag," he agrees, laughing. “But you can't lie to me. Nothing is just a shag when it comes to you, you enormous softie.” I grumble but accept his kiss anyway. When he pulls back, he's grinning. "Well that settles that. Reckon we're bonded for life now."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Of course it is. It's a terrible faux-pas to go at another vampire's property."

"Aleister Crowley you moron, that's not at all-"

"Shhh, it's okay. I don't regret it at all- you're the only one that's a looker anyway. Heard you're pretty loaded too, actually."

"Fuck you," I hiss at him.

"Right, you're not bad at that either."

"How fortunate for you," I tell him acidly, but there's something thick and warm pooling in my gut, and it doesn't lessen even with the goofy grin he gives me.

He must read it on my face, because the look on his fades into one I know well. I've seen it often, although usually directed at baked goods or roast beef.

"Figure it could get a lot worse for me than belonging to you."

"To each other," I promise him, "we belong to each other."

And for once, he’s not wrong. He threads our fingers together and pulls me close. In all honesty, he’s a terrible pet. He’s pushy and demanding, with absolutely no regard for authority.

But he’s mine.

And the bloodthirst, the fangs, the insatiable desire to _own _him-

That’s all his. And he’s thankful for it.

Aleister Crowley, I really am living a charmed life.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonded for life idea courtesy of the wonderful [aralias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias). Definitely check out [Sex and Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19791214) which was one of the inspirations for this fic.
> 
> I would also be remiss if I didn’t shamelessly plug Simon Snow is a Lucky Bag of Blood, by the incomparable [neck_mole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neck_mole/pseuds/neck_mole), which was another inspo for this.
> 
> Lastly, thanks for taking the time to read this!
> 
> I can also be found on [tumblr](https://sharkmartini.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A People Pet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816869) by [Gammarus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gammarus/pseuds/Gammarus)


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